The Omniscrolls

Two centuries ago, the Great Solar War drove many Rhoarons to take refuge in two other planets in our system. One of them was Alveroth, which was among the top three most powerful planets in our solar system; the other was Phyron, my home planet, which was yet to catch up with the rest of our system. However, the majority of the Rhoaron refugees chose Phyron over Alveroth since our home had more free land; and while this helped expand our growth in the intra-solar market with time, eventually, the majority of the Rhoaron descendants here demanded rights to more land and industries, claiming that Phyron wouldn’t be where it was without their hard work. While we acknowledged their hand in developing of our economy, their demands were far too extreme. However, while many of our neighbours agreed on this, the superpowers of the solar system—especially Alveroth—did not: they saw it as an opportunity to further their own ambitions. And thus began the Phyronian Civil War. I lost everyone I lo...

From a young age, I could peer into people’s minds, and even feel their bodies’ conditions, with just a single touch. This was both a blessing and a curse, for with this ability came the power to heal them of mental and physical ailments at the cost of my own. The side-effects were temporary: sometimes, I would be rendered immobile for days, other times, I would remain bedridden for weeks. My parents were initially against my willingness to heal anyone who needed it, saying I was being too selfless, but the pain was worth it to see them feeling better again. Being in a small town, word of my deeds spread swiftly and it wasn’t long before both medical professionals and religious zealots joined forces against the one whom they saw as a common enemy. They threatened my family and me on numerous occasions and even spread rumours that I was a witch working with the devil—that I was making deals for people’s souls without their knowledge. If it were just me, I could’ve cared less, but their ...

Growing up, I had a near-unnatural gravitation towards mythology, especially for stories of angels and demons. My mom didn’t follow any religion, but she never dismissed my curiosity. In fact, she spoiled me whenever she could afford it. I always asked her for mythology books, nothing more. This also led me to start working on stories of my own in my teen years. When I joined my town’s university, Mythological Studies became one of my favourite classes. I was glad that my lecturer, Prof. Halphor, was equally enthusiastic about teaching all myths from around the world. One day, when he was talking about demons, I asked him if it was, at least hypothetically, possible to make deals with demons—whether there were actual rituals recorded in the past. Many of my peers giggled, thinking it was just a joke. I smiled as if it were one, too, but I honestly wished to know if it were truly possible. Prof. Halphor said there were several recorded methods, although none had ever been proven. After ...

I had just moved into a new house by the sea after switching jobs. The rustling of the leaves and the lapping of the waves surrounding me were comforting beyond words, and the serene scenery beyond my doorstep brought time to a halt each moment it drew my gaze. However, although I enjoyed this tranquility at first, I soon came to witness the disquietude that lingered in the heart of an old homeless man nearby. I first saw him while walking home from work. He was clutching his sunglasses with one hand and wailing his other arm into the air, cursing at someone or something that was seemingly out to get him. “No, stay back, you demons!” he’d say. “Go away! Begone! Haven’t you taken enough from me?” he’d continue. The man repeated those words every day for three days in a row. Many onlookers avoided him without a word, while a few others often recorded him with amusement in their eyes. I felt my stomach curl seeing his struggles. He looked like he needed professional help. When I attempted...